by Forthright
She hummed unhappily. “I’m fumbling around. I can’t really tell from these charts if I’m doing this right.”
“It’s not so hard.” Kip leaned across her desk, tapped his nose, then tapped hers in a silent call for attention. “Lots of this stuff is common sense, really. Take this row.”
She scanned the line of nuanced greetings.
“Watch,” he said, tapping his nose again.
To Tami’s amazement, he ran through the entire series of gestures, just the way they were described in the pamphlet, but paraphrasing their meaning into a sort of one-sided conversation. “Hey, man! What’s up? We’re good, right? No worries, friend. Take it easy. Everything’s fine.”
And he made them look entirely natural.
“How did you learn all of these?”
Kip shrugged. “Like I said, it’s not hard. You can barely turn around these days without getting the run-down from some public service announcement.”
“Show me again?”
Kip ran through the basics two more times, both patient and pleased with her comparatively clumsy efforts.
“Now, all I need is someone to practice on.”
He shook his head. “Not a whole lot of Rivven showing their faces in these parts.”
Tami sighed. “Can you blame them?”
“Can’t say I would.”
She leaned forward. “Do you think there are Amaranthine in Fletching?”
“Hard to say.” Kip’s expression turned more serious. “Once the college adopts the integration program, I’m sure we’ll see more around. But I get the impression that they don’t want to scare people any more than people want to be scared. Why do you ask?”
“I suppose I’m curious.”
“Nothing wrong with curiosity.”
Tami waved her hand. “But I feel like I’m curious for the wrong reasons.”
Kip dropped into one of the chairs across from her. “How so?”
“Well, I want to meet someone because of what they are, not because of who they are.” She searched for a good example. “It would be like deciding I want to get to know Ash because I think he’s Native American. Or if I’m only talking to you because I’ve always wanted a friend with red hair.”
To her relief, Kip was nodding. “You’ve really given this a lot of thought.”
“As a kid, I was the only Asian girl in town. People made a lot of assumptions about me because I look like my mother. And even though they never meant anything bad by it, I still didn’t like being labeled. Somehow, I wasn’t a person; I was a category of person. Whenever they generalized, it made me feel like less of a person.” Tami slouched back in her chair and indicated the fliers and brochures. “I’m upset with myself for doing the same thing to people I’ve never met.”
“But you’re still curious.”
“Yes.”
Kip draped his arms on the edge of her desk, slouching forward to rest his chin on them. “Hey, Tami?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re probably over-thinking this whole thing. Making friends starts in lots of different ways, and if curiosity is what gets a conversation rolling, what’s the big deal?”
She frowned thoughtfully. While she had no problem—absolutely none—chatting with people around town or parents of her students or customers at the orchard, this was different in her mind. She didn’t want small talk and smiles and setting people at ease. She wanted … more.
Kip was watching her with a little half-smile on his face. “I mean, think about me and Ash. Why would you ever consider hanging out with a couple of janitors? It wasn’t really because he’s half-Native American and you have a thinly veiled passion for red hair.”
Tami laughed. “Of course not.”
“Thank back, then. Why us?”
“I guess because … you seemed nice.” Was it really that simple? She considered the man across from her and asked, “Why me?”
“Buttering up the boss!” He laughed at her expression and pointedly flicked his shoulder, making the gesture that he’d casually interpreted as don’t sweat it. “I told you, this isn’t really that hard. Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with you? You seemed nice.”
Kindergarten orientation was already underway when Tami slipped into the back of a classroom packed with youngsters and their parents. Harrison Peck, the school’s attendance clerk, made an energetic emcee. He was at his usual natty best, the real wingtip and bowtie sort. At first Tami had taken him for a fresh-faced intern who was trying too hard, but after a few weeks, it dawned on her that he was the genuine article … and two years older than her.
He belonged in children’s television, and they were lucky to have him. Meticulous to a fault, he never forgot a name and was genuinely concerned for every kid that passed through their doors.
Harrison was wrapping up a spiel on Landmark Elementary’s check-in procedures and tardy policies, which was all well and good. What Tami couldn’t quite figure out was why he was dressed as a crossing guard.
“… of course, one of my most important jobs today is making sure you know who to tell when you need something.” Harrison raised a hand. “When you’re at home, who do you ask for help?”
The braver kids took the cue and answered variously, naming parents, grandparents, babysitters, and siblings. And Harrison let them share, giving them his full attention. Then he took back the reins. “While you’re at school, you’ll have really nice grown-ups who are ready to listen and to help you. And you’ll always know us because we wear special nametags.”
Harrison showed the photo ID on his lanyard. “This means I belong to the Landmark Elementary family. I’m Mr. Peck, and you can recognize me easily, because I always wear a bowtie, even to the grocery store.”
“It’s true!” called out one of the moms. “I’ve seen him!”
The kids giggled.
“Then there’s these guys. They’re fixer-uppers and cleaner-uppers, and they love recess.”
To Tami’s honest surprise, Ash strode purposefully to the front. She hadn’t expected someone who made himself so scarce to willingly take center stage. He lifted his lanyard, then tapped the embroidered name on his coveralls. “I’m Ash.”
Harrison stage whispered, “You’re a grown-up, Ash. That means they should call you Mr. Fowler.”
“No, thanks. I’d rather be Ash.” He held up three fingers. “Less letters to remember.”
“A – S – H,” Harrison spelled out, also raising three fingers. “I suppose that does keep things simple. But aren’t there supposed to be two of you?”
“Yeah, there are two of us.” And putting his fingers to his lips, he gave a shrill whistle.
Heads turned as Kip charged through the door, pretended to trip, dove into a handspring, and came to a stop like a gold-medal gymnast sticking a landing. The class erupted into cheers and applause, and Kip swept off an imaginary hat and bowed.
Tami shook her head in disbelief. They must have scripted the whole thing.
Harrison used his crossing guard whistle to regain everyone’s attention. “Are you all right, Mr. Kipling.”
“Who, me?”
“Isn’t that your name?” Harrison took a sterner tone. “Where is your nametag, Mr. Kipling?”
“It’s here somewhere!” While he patted pockets, he said, “And you can call me Kip.”
“That’s three letters, too.” Ash helpfully pulled the dangling lanyard from Kip’s back pocket and handed it to him. “K – I – P spells Kip. Nice and easy.”
Now properly displaying his photo ID, Kip said, “I never wear a bowtie, but I always have red hair. I’m Kip, the janitor with red hair.”
Ash said, “I don’t have red hair, and I never wear a bowtie, but I like high places.”
“Top of the jungle gym, top of the slide, top of the bleachers.” Kip held a hand to his mouth as if telling a great secret. “I’ve even found him in trees. Weird, huh?”
More laughter. The kids were relaxed and having fun.
H
arrison asked, “Do you think you can remember Ash and Kip as part of your Landmark Elementary family?”
Everyone agreed with enthusiasm.
“And I see Principal Reaverson is here.” Harrison beckoned.
Making her way to the front, Tami took the time to scan all the eager faces. “Welcome to Landmark Elementary. We’re excited that you’ll be learning with us this year.” Following the established pattern, she lifted her lanyard. “I don’t wear a bowtie, and I don’t have red hair. I’ve been known to climb trees on occasion because my family owns an apple orchard, but I think you can still tell me apart from Ash.”
“She’s shorter,” Kip said. “And a girl.”
Tami curtsied. “I do have something that’s always with me, though.”
From where it was mostly hidden by the collar of her second most businesslike suit, she withdrew a strand of heavy stones in shades ranging from deep purple to lavender. They looked for all the world like a fortune in amethysts. For all Tami knew, that’s exactly what they were. She’d never had them assessed.
Kip hunkered down, studying her necklace with obvious fascination. “Principal Reaverson, are you secretly a princess?” he asked in awed tones.
She laughed. “I don’t think so. This necklace is a family heirloom, so it’s very old and very special. I never take it off.”
“Not even when you sleep?” Kip asked.
“Nope.”
“Not even when you wash your hair?”
“Nope.” Tami offered a small shrug. “It doesn’t come off.”
Harrison stepped in. “Will you all remember Princess … I mean Principal Reaverson if you see her?”
The kids chorused their assurances, and Kip finally straightened and offered her his arm. As he escorted her to the door, he asked, “How long have you worn that necklace, Tami?”
“Always,” she replied, touching the familiar weight. “My brother and I each inherited something from our great-grandparents.”
Kip opened his mouth, closed it again, then solemnly asked, “Is he also royalty?”
Tami smiled. “A prince among men.”
ELEVEN
True
Melissa suspected she was pushing her luck by showing up at Founders Coffee before sunrise, but the lights were on and the door unlocked. She checked to see if the hours were posted and found a discreet bronze plaque beside the entrance, emblazoned with two words—ALWAYS OPEN.
Inside, she spotted evidence of early morning activity—faculty meetings and what appeared to be a men’s Bible study. Once the semester was well underway, she had little doubt that the place would be clogged with students pulling all-nighters.
Rook was the only one behind the counter, and his smile widened at the sight of her. “Oh, I hope you really do rise this early. This shift is the hardest to cover.”
“My mom always started us training before dawn.” Melissa demonstrated the first several forms of a battler’s warmup. “And the members of my host family are up with their chickens.”
“I’d hire you twice if I could. Jiminy’s no use in the morning.” Rook scanned the room, then beckoned for her to join him behind the counter. “I know I promised to introduce you to True this morning, but stuff happened in the overnight.”
“Stuff?”
He lowered his voice. “Werewolves are in the news again. There’s a girl missing, and it was bad. The two boys who were with her didn’t make it.”
“Where did it happen?”
Rook bared his teeth. “Close enough that we’re playing host to a score of trackers. Do you remember the way back to my place?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Go on back. Watch for a wide, white door. We have guests in True’s shelter, and I let them know you’d be dropping by. Torloo is quite capable of handling introductions.”
Melissa excused herself and wended her way to the enclave’s private section. Jiminy’s barrier let her through with a funny little burst of gladness, as if the hallway was happy to see her.
She was still puzzling over the combination of sigils that might be used to achieve the trick when she located the entrance to the Kith shelter. With a light rap for courtesy, she stepped inside.
Immediately, a low growl began in the central alcove, where a large black wolf with silver eyes glared at her, hackles raised.
“True,” admonished a young voice. “That is no way to greet a guest.”
The she-wolf lowered her head to her paws, surly in her silence.
Melissa immediately took a deferential stance. “Should I go?”
“No. You are expected. May I offer the first introduction.”
Easing to a seat on a golden straw bale right inside the door, Melissa extended her palms to one of the youngest Amaranthine she’d ever encountered. He appeared no more than eleven or twelve, his voice untouched by adolescence, his eyes large in a face still rounded by childhood.
Still, he addressed her with the poise of a diplomat. “I am Torloo-dex Elderbough.”
Melissa looked more closely. “You’re part of Adoona-soh’s pack?”
He drew himself up. “I am her son.”
Adoona-soh Elderbough was one of the Five, the leaders of the Emergence who had introduced the Amaranthine clans to the world. Melissa could see similarities in some of the boy’s coloring—tanned skin and dark brown hair. But his eyes were the clear blue of skies. She tried to think back and realized she’d never seen or heard anything about Adoona-soh’s bondmate.
“May I ask about your name?” she inquired, matching his seriousness.
“In the language of my people, my name means ‘petal moon,’ because my sire’s den overlooks a flowering meadow. I was born at full bloom.”
“That’s lovely.”
He blushed and mumbled, “It’s kind of girly.”
Melissa shifted her hands so they supported his. “You bring strength to the name your sire chose by taking pride in it.”
Torloo smiled shyly, revealing two dimples, and bent to kiss her forehead. “May I know your name?”
“Melissa Armstrong, newest employee of Founders. Rook suggested I make myself available to True if she needs tending.”
“That would be good.” He turned to the black she-wolf. “You know it would calm you.”
True pointedly shut her eyes.
“Maybe you could start with my brother’s Kith,” Torloo suggested. “They are trail-weary.”
A matched pair of dark brown wolves lifted their heads, ears pricked, tails swaying. Melissa had to smile, for they showed no sign of weariness.
Torloo crooked his fingers. “Risk and Dare are my brother’s companions.” His chin lifted proudly. “I have been traveling with Naroo-soh, and he asked me to watch over them.”
Melissa knew that name. Naroo-soh Elderbough was Adoona’s firstborn and leader of the Elderbough trackers.
“Brother said it was for their safety, but I think it was probably for mine.” The tip of Torloo’s tail tucked. “He thinks me too young for this trail.”
“He doesn’t want you to see the crime scene?” she guessed.
Torloo sighed. “Brother is cautious, and for good reason. I have much to learn before I can be useful to him.”
“You could be useful to me.” In Melissa’s experience, Amaranthine of the same clan always seemed especially perceptive when it came to the likes and dislikes of their Kith. “Will you help me understand what True wants?”
The young wolf hesitated. “What did Rook tell you about her?”
“He implied that it might take some time for her to accept me.” She addressed herself directly to the she-wolf. “But he did think we could get along.”
Torloo hummed. It wasn’t a very encouraging hum.
Melissa sighed. “Can I do anything to make you more comfortable, True? Other than leaving?”
“What if that is all she wants?”
“I would bow to True’s wishes, of course. But I think Rook would be disappointed in both of us
. And I can’t help wanting to please him.”
True growled deep in her chest.
“Why?” asked Torloo. “Why are you courting Rook’s favor?”
Melissa opted for honesty. “Because I miss my mothers.”
Torloo’s brows drew down in obvious confusion, but True grumbled and lumbered to her feet. She was leggy and large for a Kith, her muzzle higher than Melissa could reach on tiptoe. Suddenly, that muzzle was all she could see. But True was no longer growling.
A nudge. A snuffle. A sneeze.
Torloo asked, “Your lineage, please?”
Melissa held her ground. “My biological father’s name is Christopher Armstrong.”
True swung around and pawed at a stack of hay bales—pale green and smelling like summertime.
“More bedding, I think,” said Torloo.
“I’ll help,” Melissa quickly offered.
His claws sliced easily through twine, and she shook out armfuls of dried grasses until they were waist deep.
“Are there herbs you favor?” Melissa looked to True and explained, “Back home, we add mint to feline bedding. And our avians have been on a lavender kick. The scents are soothing.”
Torloo turned expectantly to True. After several moments, he said, “Fallen leaves. She likes the scent of autumn and the way they rustle.”
“It may take me a little while,” said Melissa. “Not many trees around here are dropping their leaves yet. But autumn isn’t far off.”
“How soon?” Torloo reached up with both hands high above his head. When the she-wolf lowered her muzzle, he stroked her inky fur. “Are you counting the days? The season will turn in a matter of weeks. Is that why you are so restless?”
Melissa gently laid her hand beside Torloo’s, adding her support. “Is there something special happening in autumn?”
“Doon-wen promised to return before the falling of leaves.” The boy chuckled. “If he is late, she wants to recline upon a bed that gives proof of his lies.”
“That would serve him right,” said Melissa. “And if he’s late, I’ll definitely help. But the way Rook described his brother, I get the idea that he keeps his promises. And that means your wait is almost over.”